IN PARIS WITH YOU - James Fenton Poems


Poems » james fenton » in paris with you

Donít talk to me of love.  Iíve had an earful
And I get tearful when Iíve downed a drink or two.
Iím one of your talking wounded.
Iím a hostage. Iím maroonded.
But Iím in Paris with you.

Yes, Iím angry at the way Iíve been bamboozled
And resentful at the mess that Iíve been through.
I admit Iím on the rebound
And I donít care where are we bound.
Iím in Paris with you.

Do you mind if we do not go to the Louvre,
If we say sod off to sodding Notre Dame
If we skip the champs Elysees
And remain here in this sleazy
Old hotel room
Doing this or that
To what and whom
Learning who you are,
Learning what I am.

Donít talk to me of love. Letís talk of Paris,
The little bit of Paris in our view.
Thereís that crack across the ceiling
And the hotel walls are peeling
And Iím in Paris with you.

Donít talk to me of love.  Letís talk of Paris.
Iím in Paris with the slightest thing you do.
Iím in Paris with your eyes, your mouth,
Iím in Paris withÖ..all points south.
Am I embarrassing you?
Iím in Paris with you.